Once upon a time there was an evil stepmother and the rest of the story is basically irrelevant because we all know that the basis for a hundred fairytales ranging from Western Europe to China is a scary, evil stepmother who does everything she can to manipulate, maim, imprison, kill, or otherwise destroy the children in her charge. In fact, there are only a small handful of stepparent tales where the individual in question is remotely normal. In Enchanted there is a power-hungry stepmother, sure, but at the end Giselle becomes a lovely, caring stepmother herself and has a great “favorite aunt”/”fun older sister” relationship with McDreamy’s daughter. In Nanny McPhee the kids are terrified about having a mean, evil, “ship them off to boarding school” stepmother. But, with the help of a little magic, in the end their Dad marries a lovely woman who absolutely adores them, and whom they adore. Yours, Mine and Ours has a double set of stepparents, a gaggle of children to rival the Duggars, and in the end everyone gets along well enough. And in Stepmom Julia Robert’s character has a lot to learn about (step)parenting and must also gain the approval of the terminally ill ex-wife/mother, in the end even though she is flawed and imperfect, she succeeds. Her stepkids end up liking her, and Susan Sarandon is finally content with Julia’s character as the future caretaker of her kids. (The sticky fact remains that in all of these shows the mother is either dead, completely absent, or dying…which is not the case with most stepparent situations, but whatever. Yay for Fairytales!)
Over the course of my young life–okay, I’m not exactly “young” but just go with me on this–over the last twenty years I have had two stepmothers, a stepfather-in-law and a stepmother-in-law; that’s a lot of steps. However, for the sake of my sanity, pixel space, and, well, “my sanity” should have been sufficient, I’m going to leave the ex-in-laws out of this. (Although, hoo boy, are there some awesome stories there! One of them had a hook for a hand. Seriously.) The last little while I’ve been thinking about both of my stepmothers, they could not be more opposite and, in the end, I am thrilled my Dad ended up with the awesome one. In many ways I feel like I know all there is to know about stepparents, after all, I’ve had four of them. In other ways I’m sure I know absolutely nothing. I am only beginning to understand what these women felt when, after falling in love and marrying my Dad, they suddenly gained another five new personalities into their family. What I can say, with a bit of authority is that I know some of what should be done and a lot of what should not.
Disclaimer: The following story details some of my earliest, hardest times. Divorce in 1991–and especially in my hometown–was not what it is now (which, by all counts, is still terrible), my parents divorce was hairy and ugly for years, taking it’s toll on me and my siblings and I am sure altering how we look back at that time. I’m sure if you asked my 10-years-older-than-me brother he would have a different story. Ditto my 6-years-older-than-me brother. Or my twin, or my younger sister. But, at any rate, this is how I remember it.
When I was nine Lurch remarried The Wicked Witch of the West who has no actual name according to the original Wizard of Oz books so I’ll call her Bastinda as the more-popular Elphaba was not evil, just misunderstood. (Fun fact: Wicked author Gregory Maguire formulated the name “Elphaba” out of Oz author L. Frank Baum’s name, taking the phonetic pronunciation of his initials: hence, L.F.B became El-pha-ba.) (Moving on and away from Broadway.) (And parenthetical statements.) The best part about Bastinda is, ruby slippers not withstanding, she never had a thing for my shoes. At first Bastinda was polite and I think she actually tried to like my Dad’s kids. She had a brood of her own a few years older than I was, and at first I think they tried as well. But very quickly it became clear that Bastinda did not like us, or at least, I felt that way. She didn’t want us around, and she mostly saw us as an expensive interference to the life she was trying to create and enjoy with Lurch. She did very little to help my sister’s and I (we, may I remind you, were still in elementary school) feel welcome or wanted at their new house. It seemed she hated to initiate conversations and except for one or two mornings where she made us waffles and ice cream for breakfast, I have no truly positive memories of her. My older brothers feel differently, but to me, she was just mean, uncaring, and indifferent. As a 3rd, 4th, and 5th grader I really couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just like me. My little life was in some serious upheaval and I could have really used another stable, caring, friendly adult. My not-so-little problems were completely overwhelming and I just wanted this new woman to be nice to me, to at least pretend that I wasn’t some kind of leeching annoyance. Unfortunately, Bastinda was not all that great in that department.
When I was in high school Bastinda and Lurch got divorced, and after 24-hours of confusion, shock and a bit of anger towards my Dad for not telling me himself I was fine. (My Mom told me Lurch had got divorced again the day after it was finalized, it was the first I had heard of it.) I never really thought about Bastinda or her kids again.
About three years ago Lurch married Glinda the Good Witch who is not a witch at all, but is in fact funny and open and warm and supportive. I love Glinda, unquestionably and for reasons that are probably far too personal for me to ever post here. I have never thought of her as a “replacement mom,” or even really so much as a “stepmother,” but more as my Dad’s awesome wife and a good friend. She has listened to me rant and cry about boy problems, life problems, school frustrations, and work frustrations. She has celebrated with me and encouraged me in relationships, life milestones, my upcoming graduation, and my career. She has been supportive and caring and loves me unquestionably regardless of the decisions I make–even the ones that are pretty iffy. I am a better person, a more compassionate and whole adult as a direct result of Glinda’s awesome influence. We exchange phone calls, text messages and emails, not every day or anything like that, but frequently enough to support this still-growing stepmother-stepdaughter relationship. (I’m a stepdaughter…hmm…I don’t feel like a stepdaughter, I just feel like I gained a new friend who happens to be married to my Dad and show up at all my family functions.) Glinda has never tried to “mother” me, she just loves me. Over the last few years she has given me some excellent advice on a wide variety of subjects, but she has never lectured me, threatened me or my relationship with Lurch, she has never been mean or cruel or conniving, nor has she ever tried to usurp a “mother” position in my life. She actually does more than anyone else I know to encourage my (nonexistent) relationship with my own mother, she has a way of illuminating that very long and involved mess for me in a way that I can see and understand, and also, perhaps, even feel a bit of compassion. Glinda is nothing like the nasty stepmother depicted in all those fairytales, she has remained, and I hope will always remain, as a wonderful addition to my family tree, someone I love and trust and respect.
Do you have (or have you had) a stepmother? Are you a stepmother? What are your experiences? Horror stories? Warm fuzzies? Anything? I’d love your thoughts.
The following questions and answers are part of my “Interview A Blogger”/”Please ask me questions to provide blog fodder” mini-series. I’ve tried to break up the questions into bigger categories and will answer them over the next couple of posts.
Topic: Travel
Question: You’ve traveled a lot, so what is your favorite trip you’ve taken and why? If you could go anywhere you haven’t been yet, where would you pick and why? From Tia.
Answer: My favorite trip I’ve ever taken was actually this last summer when I spent a week in Montana with J-Mo’s family. It was slow-paced, relaxing, and full of sunshiney days that weren’t too hot, a lot of gorgeous, GORGEOUS scenery, awesome people, and hardly any connection with the outside/cyber world. It was bliss. Following it up with a few days on my own in Yellowstone gawking at even MORE amazing scenery was an awesome way to end a wonderful vacation.
Runner up favorite trip would be a lovely 10 day vacation spent in Hawaii approximately 2 weeks after I got divorced. I woke up early, cried a lot, read a pile of books, listened to the waves crashing against the seawall, sat on the beach by myself (with SPF 85 sunscreen and still under an umbrella), dug my toes in the sand, watched the turtles and whales and let myself unwind from a year or two of hell. I remember very distinctly the moment, sitting on a skinny little beach staring at the horizon, when I knew it would all be okay, that I would be okay. There’s no feeling quite like that.
If I could go anywhere? Oh goodness, there are so many options! If time and money weren’t really an issue I’d be perfectly happy bouncing from country to country for a solid year. But, as my boss has already told me he won’t grant me a year sabbatical to do such a thing, let’s say I have a week and a modest budget, where would I go? Or, what are the top three places I’d go. I’d love to go to Iceland, or Turkey and Greece, or Belize. If I am keeping this answer grounded in reality those are probably my top 3 destinations right now (and have been on my top 5 list for ages).
Question: If you could live in another country (not visit, LIVE) for a few years, which one would it be, and of course why? From: One of only 2 or 3 male readers, Sov.
Answer: Oh goodness, I LOVE this question! I have always wanted to live in China. I actually took several years of Mandarin at the University and a half-dozen Chinese culture classes. I love the language, love the culture, love everything about it. Granted, my taller-than-average and platinum blonde self will stick out like, well, a tall blonde, but I am in-love with the idea of moving there. That being said, there are probably two dozen more countries that are on my list of places I would like to live for a few years. Living in another country is something I will do, just not positive of when.
Question: If you move to another country can I have your apartment? From my sister, Erika.
Answer: Yes, you can babysit apartment-sit while I’m abroad, but if I end up moving back to Salt Lake you’ll have to vacate to somewhere else because I LOVE this apartment. Sorry, them’s the breaks. Deal or no deal?
Question: Do you have any travel goals? How far along are you on them?
Answer: Yes, actually, I do! I would like to visit all 50 states before I turn 31 (i.e. the end of my 30th year), and I’d like to visit every continent before I turn 41. So far I have been to 36 of 50 states (14 left! Woot!) and…one continent. But I’ve visited both Canada and Mexico! I’ve got North America COVERED!
Question: How do you get such good deals on airline tickets? From Sarakastic.
Answer: I am always looking for airline tickets, which helps to find the deals. I get email alerts from Delta and Southwest and every so often from Kayak for certain destinations. That all sounds lovely, but that’s not really my secret. I will buy tickets when I see a good price, but I rarely wait for the Lowest Price Ever! I have a set amount that I set aside for travel from each paycheck, and if I get a hankering to go somewhere, or if I see a decent price (again, not necessarily rock bottom price, just affordable for that destination) I buy a ticket. I drive a clunky, paid-off car to be able to travel. I have made sacrifices to pay off my student loan so I have more funds to travel. It’s not nearly as glamorous as being able to give you the name of a travel agent who can always score you $79 flights into JFK or something, but it’s what I do and it’s been working out quite nicely for the last few years.
Question: Can you really pack an entire week’s worth of clothes and shoes and everything into a carry on?
Answer: Yes I can and do quite regularly. The key to this is rolling your clothes in outfits, making sure those outfits are interchangeable and any big pieces (jeans, jackets, shoes) are worn several times. I know many people wear ballet flats or slim shoes on the plane because they are easy to take off during security screenings. Here”s the thing, I’d rather take 2 extra minutes to put my heels back on (or boots, or whatever) and 5 extra minutes not to run through the airport and have that precious space in my carry on for something like scarves or my hair dryer or an extra sweater in case I change my mind one morning. I think my personal packing coup was for a trip to New York City I managed to fit an entire week’s worth of casual “about town” clothes and 6 dressier ensembles and their accompanying heels (for Broadway performances) into a carry on and purse. Yes, that’s right folks. I squeezed 13 outfits into a carry on. I rule!
I loathe checking luggage, and this was before airlines got away with charging two arms and a big toe to bounce your suitcase around, scruff it up and probably lose it in transit. I am always paranoid that I will arrive without my toothbrush and a fresh pair of underwears and something to wear the next day. I started packing an overnight carry-on, but then I lost my bag several times in a row and decided to just pack carry on for the rest of forever. I’ve got my toiletries down to a science and have always managed to squeeze everything I need into the space allotted (and anything that doesn’t fit goes into a giant purse.) With only one or two exceptions (i.e. suitcases packed to the limit with books), I have always travel with only a carry on.
Question: Any tips for traveling?
Answer: Always eat before you go to the airport. Take an empty water bottle and fill it up for your flight. Always, ALWAYS take a big snuggly scarf or pashmina as airplane A/C is merciless and you never know where those pillows and blankets have been. (Eww!) Wear comfortable clothe, but–unless you have a 14 hour flight–that does not mean “wear pajamas” or “wear leggings as pants.” You can wear real pants, and something not resembling an aerobics outfit circa 1997. Always bring a cardigan or jacket on the plane, and if you can throw in a few snacks as well you will be much happier. (Think apples, cheese and a baguette, or jerky, or trail mix, or whatever else tickles your fancy and won’t make you feel all gross and disgusting.) Pack a book or two. I am a forever fan of paper-and-ink books because I never have to turn them off or worry about the battery dying or freak out if they are stolen or misplaced, but that’s just me.
Filed under: All about me
The following questions and answers are part of my “Interview A Blogger”/”Please ask me questions to provide blog fodder” mini-series. I’ve tried to break up the questions into bigger categories and will answer them over the next couple of posts.
Topic: School
Question: What do you plane to do with your degree? From Lisa.
Answer: Initially (you know, 10 years ago when I started this Get A Degree! project) I wanted to go to law school, I wanted to be an international corporate attorney. Yeah, I don’t want to do that now. Then I wanted to go to business school–economics is a great degree for both an MBA and succeeding in the business world. I don’t necessarily want to do that now, although I haven’t ruled it out completely yet. At this point, I just want to be done. My current position is in a field and department that actually relates to my degree. I rarely use anything I learned in class to complete work projects, but the background knowledge has been quite helpful. Eventually, I want to earn a Master’s degree, although I am unsure of the exact path I want to take at this point. Ask me again in a few months after I have recovered from what is promising to be a doozy of a case of Post Traumatic Semester Disorder.
Topic: Work
Question: What is your ideal (if not realistic) job? Asked by Lisa.
Answer: I actually am really quite happy with the job I have. I work for a company I respect and despite the office politics and drama there are several coworkers I quite enjoy. I don’t work weekends or nights, nor do I have to deal with food or angry people (office politics aside) or sales. Goodness, I am so glad I am out of sales.
However, if we’re talking “ideal” I would love to be able to make a living doing something that not only I enjoy, but that I am good at. Like, making frame walls, or assembling outfits, or learning completely random facts or obscure tidbits, or learning something useful like languages and economic theory.
Question: What is your dream job? Asked by Elizabeth
Answer: I would love to be a writer, a great writer. One who writes non-fiction and writes it well. I would love to win awards like the Nobel Prize, or the Pulitzer, or Not The Most Original Writer, But Still Pretty Darn Good.
Question: If you won the lottery, would you keep it a secret? From Jennie.
Answer: Oooooh! I love the idea of keeping it a secret! I love the idea of not changing your life so drastically that people can only assume you won the lottery! Yes, I love this idea. If I won the lottery I would, of course, buy a really cute car and a lot of plane tickets. And maybe the building that I currently rent because, well, it’s amazing. (Yes, the entire building, it started it’s life as a gorgeous house and I could easily turn it back into a gorgeous house instead of 5 apartments if I won the lottery.)
Question: If tomorrow you suddenly had an extra $100, $1,000, $10,000 and $100,000 and $1,000,000 dollars, what would you do?
Answer: (First of all, this is one of my favorite daydreams and the key to the daydream is that you can’t do something boring like invest in your 401k or a mutual fund portfolio.) If I had a surprise $100 dollars I would spend it on a really fantastic dinner-date night with J-Mo. Or a fantastic pair of boots. If I had $1,000 I would go on a really lovely long weekend get-away and stay in a fantastic resorty-hotel somewhere quiet and beautiful with really great food. $10,000 would be two-week vacation somewhere amazing (Belize, Italy/Greece/Turkey, Iceland, South Africa, New Zealand, Hong Kong). I would buy a new couch and a bigger, flatter TV. Any extras would go to a pair of red boots and an unlimited monthly usage at the yoga studio around the corner. $100,000 would go towards the same vacation (but perhaps two locations?), a zippy little car that I love, a new mattress, go to grad school (with the per-requisite of figuring out what I wanted to study, of course), and maybe a significant down payment on a place of my own? I don’t know, because I don’t know where I want to settle, and it seems silly to buy something when you don’t know where you want to buy, you know? And finally, with a million dollars…gosh, I don’t even know. Travel, learn, love, volunteer, donate, contribute…I can’t even…I can hardly imagine. A million dollars. Goodness, it makes the mind reel.
Do you sense a pattern here? Travel, shoes, more travel, more shoes…yeah, I am nothing if not predictable.
Filed under: All about me
The following questions and answers are part of my “Interview A Blogger”/”Please ask me questions to provide blog fodder” mini-series. I’ve tried to break up the questions into bigger categories and will answer them over the next couple of posts.
Topic: Food
Question: Do you have a favorite food? From K at Two Adults, One Brown Baby
Answer: Yes. Always. Do I know what it is? Not exactly. Which is not to say that I don’t know what my favorite it, but more that my favorite food is constantly changing. I could eat sushi and Mexican food every day for the rest of my life (although not a sashimi burrito or something, because that’s just gross). I can’t imagine living without comfort food like macaroni and cheese (homemade, not Kraft’s Yellow Death), pasta, steak, and mashed potatoes with salt and pepper and butter but NEVER gravy. (Ew, sick, gross. Thickened animal juice…bleck!) I am in-love with breakfast food like crepes, or homemade baking powder biscuits, or pumpkin waffles with cinnamon syrup.
But, all that being said, when I was growing up my Mom always let us choose the menu for our birthday. Almost always, my dinner of choice was pork chops with a slice of grilled onion in this delicious, slightly sweet sauce spooned over rice and accompanied with homemade applesauce mixed with brown sugar and cinnamon. Mmmm, man, I’m craving those now. Time to bust out the recipe box!
Question: What is your favorite snack? From: Lisa of Books, Lists, Life
Answer: Brace yourselves, because you are about to think I’m nuts. My favorite snack is, has always been, and will probably always be banana bread with homemade strawberry jam and a slice or two of Tillamook cheddar cheese.
I know. I know. Your furrowed brow, cocked head and subsequent gagging have not gone unnoticed. (And you thought I couldn’t see you, bwahahah!) But seriously, it is delicious. I’ll take it on white or wheat bread if banana is not available, but it is DELICIOUS with banana bread. My grandpa served in France during WWII and he said that in many of the towns they went through the villagers ate bread with jam and cheese all the time and he picked it up from them. My dad eats it, my siblings all love it, and everyone who has married in to the family thinks we are all crazy.
Question: Do you ever crave strange foods?
Answer: Yes. When I’m hormonal and PMS-y I crave super processed foods: KRAFT Macaroni and Cheese (Yellow Death), hot dogs, soda, those disgusting sugar cookies from the grocery store that are two parts cardboard and two parts crisco-frosting. It’s ridiculous, and all I can do to eat salads and vegetables and turkey sandwiches like a normal person. I really can’t explain that.
Question: Do you like to cook/bake? Or do you leave that up to take-out or your man? From the always lovely Angella.
Answer: I really enjoy cooking and baking. These days with class and homework filling up my evenings I don’t cook nearly as often as I used to (Sad Panda Face). Also, in an apartment without A/C you have to wait until the temperatures drop below 60 before cooking is at all pleasurable. That being said, now that’s it’s getting colder and I’m craving soup and bread and all things Fall-ish and delicious, and my apartment is not ten thousand degrees, I am really good about cooking on the weekends. J-Mo is turning out to be an excellent sous chef, and he doesn’t mind if I sneak bits of cookie dough or a kiss or two.
Topic: Books & Movies
Question: What is your favorite romantic book/movie? From Lisa.
Answer: My all-time favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I’ve watched the movie a million times, I’ve read the book by Truman Capote. I’ve read the book about the making of the movie. I love how quirky and uncertain and real Holly Golightly is and how Fred/Paul loves her anyway. I guess I have always hoped for someone to see me and all my flaws and mistakes and love me anyway.
As far as romantic books…I don’t think I read many romance novels. As in, I don’t think I can think of one.
Question: What was your favorite movie as a child? From Jennie.
Answer: When I was really young we didn’t have many movies, which is to say we had one movie, Disney’s animated Robin Hood and we watched it every Saturday night while my Mom rolled three little girls hair in pink spongy curlers. As I got a little older our VHS collection increased, I remember loving the Charlie Brown movies (Christmas, Valentine’s, Thanksgiving, Great Pumpkin), and the Disney animated films. Mostly, we didn’t watch movies and we didn’t have any TV at our house, we read books instead.
Question: If a movie were being made of your life, who would you want to play you? From Jennie.
Answer: I have only recently figured this question out, actually. I thin Rachael Carpani would be my first choice. Granted, she has this lovely naturally wavy hair that I never had, but I think she’s lovely and I think she can do grit. (Note: anyone who has to play the story of my life is gonna have to be okay with a bit of grit.)
Question: Have you always been a voracious reader? If so, what was your favorite book as a child? From Janelle.
Answer: Yes, I have generally always had my nose in a book for about as long as I can remember. My all-time favorite days in elementary school were the Read-a-Thon days where I would curl up with a pillow and a stack of books in the corner of the classroom and stay there for hours. One of my favorite books as a kid was Carry On, Mr. Bowditch. I loved how Bowditch spent his life sailing from country to country, teaching himself languages along the way. He learned the language of every country he visited with a dictionary and a Bible. I loved that idea. I mean, after typing that out it is blatantly obvious that he didn’t know any of these languages very well unless he was some kind of language savant. But hey, perhaps Mr. Bowditch was a language savant! Dictionary and Bible and 2 months later, BOOM! he is fluent in Finnish. Or Afrikaans. Or Vietnamese. Seems totally plausible…right?
When I was little we had this big tree in our backyard and I would climb up there with a book and a pillow and a snack and spend the afternoon among the leaves. One of the saddest days in my little life was when I came home from school and the tree was gone, my Dad had chopped it down because it was growing too close to the house (I could touch the bricks from my little perch). I am positive he had no idea I spent my afternoons there, and I’m sure he couldn’t understand my utter devastation. Don’t worry, I found other trees in which to spend my afternoons.
Question: What is your favorite book?
Answer: I have read a lot of amazing books, but these are the ones that changed how I think and how I act. And I’m sure that as soon as I hit publish I’ll remember a half-dozen more that should be added to the list, but here they are, in no particular order. Half the Sky (Kristoff, WuDunn), The Female Brain (Brizendine), The Geography of Bliss (Weiner), The Glass Castle (Walls), The Hiding Place (Ten Boom), The Jungle (Sinclair), A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Smith), Atlas Shrugged (Rand), Freakanomics (Levitt, Dubner), The Omnivore’s Dilemma (Pollan), Angela’s Ashes (McCourt), Cry, the Beloved Country (Patton), East of Eden (Steinbeck), Great Expectations (Dickens), The End of Poverty (Sachs), and anything by Malcolm Gladwell. Ok, I know that isn’t a small list by any stretch, I find that as I get older I get pickier about what I read, and that means I am reading more books that I love and less that are just “meh.” For a full list, including rankings, check this out.
Surprise! It’s “Interview A Blogger” Day! I bet you didn’t even know this day was on the Gregorian calendar, let alone observed by yours truly, did you?. It’s okay, I kind of made it up. But people make up holidays all the time, right? It doesn’t make it any less valid. Will you all please quiet down, take a seat and pull out your notebooks/iDevices? So thank you.
Have you seen those Question/Answer posts prancing around the Interwebs? A blogger cutely asks readers to ask her any question they like and then over a few posts she answers them in full paragraphs with funny stories and witty anecdotes? Usually she’ll include an awesome photo of a landscape, or a baby animal, or an artistic macro shot as bait for the queried goods. But as I have spent the last several weeks of posts pimping out my pics (yep, doing it again, this time with onomatopoeia), you’ll have to settle for this adorable, heisted photo of a baby sloth instead.
This makes you want to participate in my little, Interview Me! game, right? No? What? But I gave you a picture of a baby sloth! You’re supposed to say “YES!” to the baby sloth? It was a calculated move to incite warm fuzzies and positive responses! Look again at those soft, brown eyes, that pettable fur, that one, curling claw; then look deep into your heart, surely you have a moment to spare, right? Yes? Oh goody. (I love baby sloths!)
I have always loved those mini-series posts of questions and answers full of all sorts of new and fascinating tidbits. I usually assumed the blogger being questioned was hosting such an information party because she magnanimously wanted her readers to get the dirt scoop on her real life. Um….that may be true; and if you have done such a mini series in your blog then it was most definitely true for you. You are magnanimous and thoughtful and a writer worthy of the Pulitzer. And did I mention you’re also pretty?
However, I am launching into this for a completely different reason. I am stumped. Blocked. Running on Idea Empty. It seems that the unbloggable things in my life are taking over and I need SOMETHING to write about to keep me sane. “Unbloggable” covers both the personal stories of my nearest and dearest, as well as those topics upon which I am incapable of writing and just end up ranting, an exercise that doesn’t do me any good but just makes me more frustrated with my boobs/doctors/annoying people/school/homework/whatever. Here I am, on my knees, armed with nothing but a snuggly baby sloth, asking you to PLEASE ask me some questions. Any question. I will do my best to answer them in a funny, witty manner, edited for snark and sass. That is, edited to include both snark and sass because I am nothing if I cannot be snarky and sassy.
Dear readers, now is your chance. Let the questioning commence! You can ask me anything, realistic or not, and I pinky promise to answer either in a forthcoming blog post, in an email, or by hiring a small plane to sky-write it over your house.
Want to know where rainbows go when they hit the earth or what really happened to the dinosaurs? Leave it in the comments.
Do you want to know my favorite book? Or rather, my top 5 favorites as I can never in a million years narrow it down to just ONE title? Type it up, submit.
Would you like to see me attempt to solve complex math equations? Submit your question, send supporting pics or documents if necessary. (Note: this question will be answered last as I have to take a lengthy break to laugh my face off at the thought that someone thinks I can solve complex equations. Dwarfs, time machines or other magical devices will definitely be included in this answer.)
Do you simply want to state that this post confirms your belief that I really am the self-centered, blathering bimbo you always suspected and I am naive in assuming The Interwebs actually cares to know any more drivel about my life? Comment box is wide open and empty. It’s okay, I won’t be offended, I have my opinions on you too.
Limber up those interrogatory fingers and let the questions fly! Post them here or you can email me.
Come on, question me! IT’S A BABY SLOTH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! You can’t say “No” to the sloth!
Just over two years ago I upgraded from my extra-slim, red sliding phone to a brand, spankin’ new SmartPhone with a touch screen, internet access and all sorts of bells and whistles. I was blown away. Within a few days I had synced up three or four email accounts (yes, I have multiple accounts, don’t judge), added a couple fantastic apps that I was sure would change my life, and was happily on my way to a SmartPhone enabled life. I loved my phone, I loved finding new apps that would make my life more technologically advanced, more involved, more connected. I was convinced that this was It.
Here we are, just over two years later and my once amazing Droid is sluggish and frustrating. My touch screen is slow to respond, has obnoxious glitches, and my once screaming-fast 3G connection now takes several minutes to load a web page. I have deleted most of the apps on my phone, and I have not missed a single one. I don’t watch videos on my phone, I don’t stream anything, I don’t store music or listen to pod casts. I use my phone to text, talk to a handful of people, occasionally make or return other phone calls, keep a running grocery list, set an alarm clock, and look up a few things on the internet like directions or definitions to obscure words. I don’t use the calendar functions, I don’t use Facebook or Twitter on my phone, I rarely use it as a camera because the pictures are always crappy and the light sucks. The short story: other than the ability to find the nearest cupcake establishment or check-in for a flight, I don’t use the “smart” features on a smart phone.
A few weeks ago I casually started looking at new phones, trying to figure out what was my next, best option. I looked a dozen different phones, all super sleek and shiny and speedy…and freaking expensive. The cheapest upgrade from the phone I currently have is a small fortune and I can’t imagine that any of these will last more than two years. They just don’t make them like those indestructible Nokia’s anymore. I realize that many people are totally fine coughing up four hundred plus dollars for a fancy phone. (FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!) Do you realize that there are entire industry’s that are built on the concept that the hugely inconvenient hassle of switching to their service will save you four hundred dollars per year? (See: Every auto insurance commercial that interrupts my prime time TV viewing.) Four hundred dollars! That is a lot of money! To send texts and make phone calls and look up drivel online! Four. Hundred. Dollars.
Clearly, I am much cheaper than I used to be, the idea of spending four hundred dollars (or, to be honest, $150 dollars) for a phone I’ll have to replace in two years anyway makes me sick to my stomach. Four hundred dollars is ridiculous.
I know many people are tied to their SmartPhones and cannot function without them–and that is just fine, I used to be that girl–but I am not that girl anymore. Frankly, I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I am chained to a computer for 8-9 hours a day, and curled up with my laptop working on homework at night, and have two or three email accounts open all the time. I don’t know why I think I need a four hundred dollar device that will only tie me to my email and other notifications for the remaining hours of the day.
I’m disconnecting. Well, I mean, sort of. I will be upgrading my phone in the next couple of weeks, but I am going to choose one without bells or whistles or a grillion apps to run my life. I want a device that will make and receive phone calls, send and receive texts, save a couple hundred phone numbers I have never bothered to commit to memory (okay, all but about 4 phone numbers), keep track of my grocery list and do it’s best to wake me up in the morning.
And another thing, while I’m on the topic of phones and their ridiculousness, let’s talk about cell phone plans for a moment. I would like to know why T-Mobile, my cell phone provider for the last decade, has a plan for unlimited everything (phone, data, text) for $49.99 per month IF YOU HAVE TWO LINES, but not if you have one line. One line of the exact same service is nearly double the price. Double! Is this some kind of scam? Some kind of discrimination against single people? Thank you, T-Mobile, for yet another reminder that my single life is, well, single. And apparently twice as expensive as if I had a pet cactus that needed a cell phone plan. Awesome.
I know there’s another version of the iPhone coming out today. I also know that many of you have been pining for this latest incarnation for weeks or months. To you, mozel tov. Your new life with iPhone5 begins today! Enjoy it! For you other technology-philiacs out there, enjoy your iPhone/Blackberry/Droid/e-Rotary Dial. It’s just no longer for me. Shrug. It’s okay, I’ll probably survive.
Probably.
Lately I have become increasingly nauseated by smells. So much so, that I would almost swear I was pregnant. Or, maybe just my nose is pregnant. (Note: I am not pregnant. Nor am I considering or attempting to become pregnant in any way any time soon. Okay? Okay. I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way.) I’m not sure if it has something to do with the changing seasons and the upheaval of allergies and hay fever that I am again forced to deal with on a daily basis, or if it is because cooler temperatures will find me outdoors more often and my nose muscles are stretching the limits of their smellingness, or if it’s just something about September. At any rate, I am far more conscious of, and disgusted with regular, every-day smells than I have ever been. And it’s starting to slowly (quickly?) drive me to CrAzYtOwN.
- Last night I was walking past a bakery and the smell of frosting made me queasy. Frosting! I love frosting!
- My apartment building smells like soup. Not a delicious, homey, fall-ish smell, but the glop served by the hairiest lunch lady in elementary school; it’s like the scent of over-boiled peas with dirty socks.
- During lunch the other day a not-unusual combination of tuna melt, pickle spear and broccoli cheese soup nearly killed me. Seriously, I almost died. And it was my lunch!!
- My office building is having some repainting done, I usually don’t mind the smell of fresh paint because it covers up a wealth of other, muskier scents, but this? Lawsy, I thought my nose was going to be burned off. I swear they mixed that paint with some kind of toxic acid. Thank heavens it isn’t my cube that is getting freshened.
- Part of a routine evening walk led me past a gorgeous old Catholic cathedral, one that I usually don’t associate with any kind of smell at all. But there it was, lingering around the entire block, calla lilies mixed with baby powder. Who makes calla lily-scented baby powder!? If this was right after Sunday morning mass, I could perhaps understand it, what with the stream of old ladies and babies coming in and out of the cathedral. But no, it was almost midnight and the stench was overpowering, it was like walking into a wall of flowered babies.
- The smokers who light up outside my bedroom window–which is left open year ’round because I need the fresh air, a dilemma only slightly complicated by the nicotine-suckers who live next door–have either switched to a higher tar brand, or have started smoking three cigarettes at a time. The smell, which is usually slightly annoying but never long lasting, seems to have permeated by nostrils. It’s second-hand smoke all-the-time in my bedroom and even cleverly angling the industrial-strength fans doesn’t seem to keep the smell out.
- The smell of printer ink nearly made me dry heave. Printer ink! Is nothing sacred!
- The usually wonderful aroma of spring rolls, particularly the Southwest spring rolls from, say, Chili’s, has the overpowering smell of stale sweat and vomit. Is this normal? Why would anyone put that on their menu!? Gah, I nearly lost my lunch.
I am normally not terribly sensitive to smells. But the last few weeks I have been nearly knocked on my arse from the stench emanating towards my virgin nostrils in the above-mentioned scenarios. What about you, what smells make you sick? (Are you pregnant? Has that changed your olfactory sensitivities?) Has anyone else had an intensifying of nasty smells lately? Is this just me? Do my nose and my OB need to have a chat to figure out what is going on?! Please help!
Last week I finalized my fall school schedule, checked and double checked all my requirements, and applied for graduation for December 2011 with a Bachelor’s of Science in Economics.
And then I broke down crying.
This has been such a long road for me, with potholes and detours and roundabouts and a hundred other annoying obstacles that could be added to the “life as a road” metaphor. I started attending classes at the University in January 2002; even if you aren’t a math major it isn’t difficult to surmise that it has taken me ten years to earn a bachelor’s degree. In that time I have also acquired some excellent work experience, an impressive resume and the ever-elusive Life Degree, in a few months I’ll have the paperwork to back it up.
Rewind to 2004: It was a few months after I got married I was really struggling with school. It wasn’t too hard, I just wasn’t interested in any of my classes, topics, teachers, nothing. I had always loved school, loved learning, and was on the fast track to a earning a 3-year bachelor’s degree. And I hit a wall. Looking back, this probably had something (read: a lot) to do with my tumultuous marriage and home life, but at the time I didn’t link the two. My X and I talked about it for several days and mutually decided that we were going to make some changes in our situation. At the time we were both working part-time and going to school full-time, I decided to find a full-time job to cover our expenses and he would quit working entirely, take on an extra class or two, and finish his degree in the next two semesters. At that point, he would be the bread-winner and I would go back to school with–hypothetically–a renewed energy and a better idea of what I wanted to study. (The long term details of this plan also included both of us earning Master’s degrees.)
I started interviewing and within a few weeks I had landed a fantastic sales position at my same company and started earning far more money on my own than we had both been making prior to our new arrangement. I continued working, enjoying the office setting and the commission checks and my new co-workers. My X? Well, he didn’t do so great at keeping up his end of the bargain, none of which I found out until after I had moved into my own apartment and filed for divorce. Turns out, X was on his last semester of academic probation. He was kicked out of the University a few weeks later but failed to mention it FOR ANOTHER TWO SEMESTERS! He continued to tell me about his classes, homework, tests, fellow students, and there were piles of papers all over the coffee table scribbled with calculus and physics equations. I continued to fund his “required” textbooks and encouraged him to go out to lunch with his friends and buy himself whatever he needed as he worked hard to graduate. I had no idea he wasn’t actually a student.
This little charade went on for two full semesters before–for completely unrelated reasons–I moved out and moved on. And THEN I found out the truth of his situation, and I was no longer upset, I was livid. The money I had given him–thousands of dollars–that went straight to Cheetos and porn instead of textbooks and late-night study-session snack runs made me sick to my stomach, but the idea that he had lied to me for so long really just pissed me off. I hated him for encouraging me to drop out of school with the idea that it would be a good move for “us” when he knew full well that he wasn’t going to be graduating anytime soon. I hated myself for letting him talk me into it, and for not noticing, and for not checking with the University, or even asking to see his report card. He was my husband, I was supposed to trust him. Ha! Lesson learned. (Also, I’ve been through a lot of therapy since this incident and no longer know think that all men are lying, abusive, manipulative jerks. Lesson (re)learned.)
At any rate, I was still working full-time, earning plenty of money to support my newly single self, so I started taking night classes to finish up my degree. At the time I had no idea just how long that would take. I haven’t attended every semester, I’ve taken breaks here and there, but I kept at it.
And now here I am, six years later, and I have finally applied for graduation. I will graduate with the exact number of credits required to earn my degree. Exactly. I haven’t switched majors, although last year I dropped my Political Science double major and Mandarin Chinese minor to eliminate a few extra semesters. (Dropping the minor also meant switching from a Bachelor of Arts to a Bachelor of Science, which I am a-okay with. Frankly, with a degree like Econ a BS seems to make a bit more sense than a BA.)
I am so very excited to finally be on the home stretch, one more semester and I will have that embossed piece of paper that represents years of struggle and heartache and frustration and analyzing and accomplishment. Dah, I can hardly wait!
Filed under: All about me
It’s August. (I realize this is not news, but sometimes I have to repeat big announcements to myself several times before I actually believe them.)
I don’t know how on earth summer is coming to an end. I am already starting to get emails from my professors for Fall semester, which, by the way, will be my LAST SEMESTER EVER OF COLLEGE!!!!
Nope, not excited about that at all.
At any rate, my summer has been full of travels and adventures, some have been documented here already. (Hi, it’s a link fest, feel free to skip this part, I pinky-promise it won’t hurt my feelings.) I’ve been hiking in Arches National Park, gone on a Arizona-Nevada-Utah Motorcycle Trip, road tripped across Southwest Montana, experienced Yellowstone National Park, explored White Pine County, Nevada, gopne on day trips to the Bonneville Salt Flats and the Spiral Jetty, and visited Portland for the very first time.
(This is where you paragraph skippers can stop with the FF button.)
But sandwiched inbetween those travel adventures has been the rest of my summer, with days and nights full of friends and laughter.
I made my yearly trip to the rodeo.
There’s just something about rodeo’s that I absolutely love. I’m not going to start wearing Wranglers and fake, Rodeo Queen hair anytime soon, but watching cowboys try and take on a bucking stallion, or, even scarier, a pissed-off bucking bull? Awesome.
Add a couple cups of delicious strawberries and sweet cream (this particular rodeo’s specialty) and a handful of hilarious friends and you’ve got yourself one fantastic Friday night. (Flickr set here) (I was surprised at how well my little pocket point-and-shoot camera did in the deepening dusk.
(And this is where my photographic evidence of said summery activities ends. Don’t worry, I am generally fairly decent at describing events without having to resort to photos or Microsoft Paint, although don’t put it past me to do both of those things, sometimes even together.)
I went to my 4-year old niece’s dance concert which was perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve also spent a lot of time hanging out with my nieces and nephews, some of the most hilarious kids on the planet.
A few weeks ago I went to lunch with my two brothers, who are rarely in the same state at the same time. There’s just something about laughing and joking with brothers, mine are both older and about a foot taller. I donned 5″ heels for the occasion and we made a very impressive, towering trio.
I have caught up completely on the last four seasons of NCIS. (Don’t judge, I have a thing for Gibbs. And also McGee. And maybe Ziva a little bit. What? She’s kickass!)
I went to a baseball game. And I very nearly stayed for all 9 innings. It was fun to sit on the grass past the outfield, have a hot dog and catch up with a friend.
I’ve been learning a lot about my SLR camera, and taking a lot of pictures, and deleting most of them, and taking some more. I am in no means a “real photographer”, but it has been a really fun hobby the last few months. This fall I’m taking a few more classes from a local camera shop to learn more about the settings on my camera and I am ridiculously excited. I even bought a new notebook just for the occasion.
I have settled down a little. And I’m not talking about donning an apron and baking cookies three times a week, because when you live in an apartment without air conditioning baking cookies turns the kitchen into a sweltering hell hole. So, no, I have not been cooking or experimenting with recipes this summer. Ask me again in October when it finally cools down, okay?
A friend of mine posted this the other day and I really love it, it seems to perfectly describe the last year-and-change of my life. “I might not be someone’s first choice, but I am a great choice. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not, because I’m good at being me. I might not be proud of some of the things I’ve done in the past, but I’m proud of who I am today. I may not be perfect…but I don’t need to be. Take me as I am, or watch me as I walk away.”
I have started to settle myself internally, I am no longer walking away. I feel like I’m standing still, not in a “lack of progression” kind of way, but in a “I am content” way. For some people this happens with meditation or yoga or some other qi-correcting exercise. For me it comes with being able to just be myself, all the time. To not have to worry that “myself” isn’t good enough, or smart enough, or witty enough, or pretty enough, or submissive enough, or successful enough. I don’t have to stress about saying the right things to the right people. I have been working on projects that are only enjoyable to me and mostly garner raised eyebrows or rolled eyeballs from my peers. And I don’t care. I feel like I am truly comfortable in my own skin. Hell, I have even openly admitted to sometimes slipping into the voice of Sid the Sloth from Ice Age for no obvious reason. I’m happy.
It’s nice.
The Fine Print: School and the busy season at work will both start in a couple of weeks and I am sure my life will go topsy-turvy again, but hey, a few months of contentment is the best way to survive the upcoming months of crazy, right? (Please agree with me here, I’ve been purposely “filling me canteen” with a fantastic, relaxy summer to combat the pending Fall of Homework and Projects and CrAzY!!1!)
We all have experiences in our lives that will forever change us, we get to decide if we use those situations to change us for the better or for not. When I think back on my 28 years there are many different directions my life could have taken; relationships, career, school path, religious affiliation (or lack thereof), geographic location, other adventures. Regardless of the “what could have been” nostalgia that reminiscing about those decisions brings up, I am a-okay with where I ended up. I could be thinner, or richer, or healthier, or more religious, or kinder, or more educated, or have a fancier job or a more reliable car or a house with a garden (and AC, and a dishwasher) instead of an apartment without. To some extent I am constantly working on improving in most of those areas, some with more priority than others, and some with no priority at all. Sure, there are a few situations I wish I had handled differently, and a few bridges I wish I hadn’t burned, but at the end of the day my choices have made me who I am now, and while I am far from perfect and will constantly be making tweaks and adjustments, I am happy with who I am. At age 28 I feel like I have finally come into my own. I am me, and at this moment I am pretty close to the best version of me that I’ve ever met; and that makes me feel ridiculously happy and immensely lucky.
Each of us are made up of various components that are light and fluffy, and some that are heavy and dark, and most that are a muddy shade of gray somewhere in-between. Very rarely is anything made up of all good or all evil, all black or all white, all one or all the other. Most of the time people, decisions, and situations are a mix of both. We usually have to pick the better of two (or more) options. Or the safer, or healthier, or less psychotic, or more productive option. It is very rare where I have had to make a decision–especially one that required a lot of thought or internal angst–that was the choice between something Super Amazing and Wonderful and Attainable versus something that is Horrible and Soul Sucking and Also Perfectly Valid. It’s usually the choice between two shades of gray.
The truth is there are good and bad parts to everything in our lives, there are light and dark characteristics in everyone. It’s what makes us human. Our light and dark sides shape who we are, and you cannot have one without the other, and you certainly cannot appreciate one without having experienced the other. Honestly, I don’t know if I would be able to exist–and certainly not in my current incarnation–without both sides. I need my darker moments, ugly relationships, poor judgement, heartbreak and hurtful experiences to help me realize how good I have it now. My dark parts ground me, they humble me, they remind me of my humanity. That doesn’t mean I glorify my mistakes or want to go back to relive those moments. I don’t. But I use them to learn about myself, about my strengths, my weaknesses, my relationships and the people around me. Usually this process also involves quite a bit of chocolate, you know, to sooth the pain. But I hope to be able to grow and learn and stretch and move on as a bigger, fuller, more complete person. (Please, no comments from the peanut gallery about how the chocolate from Part 1 directly correlates with the “bigger, fuller” person in Part 2, mmmkay?)
Without these pieces of darkness, without the blackest, hardest periods of my life, I fear I would be all fluff, so airy and light that I would actually float away. I fear I’d have no tangible substance and actually cease to exist. Is this a rational way to categorize my organic matter? No. Does it help me understand? Yes. Here’s to being real and authentic, black warts and all.
